


Lover's Day

by sidewinder



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Frottage, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Romance, canon-typical mentions of child abuse, canon-typical mentions of sexual abuse, cuddling overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-14 19:05:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5754730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each and every one of them had their make-or-break case working in Special Victims. The case that proved you either had what it took to stomach sex crimes long term, or left you filing transfer papers as soon as possible and swearing you’d never set foot in the 16th precinct again.</p><p>Almost two years in since his transfer here, and Fin had finally met his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Characters property of NBC/Dick Wolf. Written purely for fun and not for profit.
> 
> Title and no small amount of inspiration from the song ["Lover's Day" by TV on the Radio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NP4pHeRSK1E). 
> 
> For now this story is not specifically connected to any of my other Munch/Fin works, but who knows what the future may hold? It's also a bit different in tone than my other stories, perhaps, but just an itch I needed to scratch to get out of my system. I hope everyone who have been so encouraging with my crazy love for these two find it worth the read!

*** * ***

 

_**“Love is a surprise. The end of love usually isn’t, but falling in love is always a surprise.”** _

_— Stanley Bolander’s girlfriend Linda, speaking to John Munch. (Homicide: Life on the Street, “A Many Splendored Thing”)_

 

* * *

“We got you on video, Gannon. We know what you like to do to little boys ’cause we’ve _seen_ it. So why don’t you stop wasting our time, and just tell us where we can find the kids. Give up the other perverts in your operation and maybe—just _maybe_ —the DA’s office will go a little easier on you...much as it pains me to think about scum like you getting anything less the full extent of what you deserve.”

John leaned against the cold wall, waiting and watching with growing apprehension. Fin kept pacing around their seated suspect, leading the interrogation, and John was beginning to think that hadn’t been the best approach to take. Over three hours in and Gannon was still playing dumb while Fin was only growing increasingly agitated, skirting closer and closer to Stabler-esque levels of _I’m-gonna-beat-this-guy-into-a-pulp_ rage. Meanwhile the suspect was supposed to be the one sweating here, not the other way around. Push too hard and the next words out of the guy’s mouth would invoke the appearance of a lawyer and end this conversation before they had anything of actual use and value out of him.

“You ain’t got shit, and I ain’t _telling_ you shit.” Gannon shifted in the small, purposefully uncomfortable chair, crossing his arms defiantly across his broad chest. He was big in a sloppy, middle-aged way, someone who wanted to think he was a bruiser but spent more time putting away beers at the bar than pumping iron at the gym. And they’d seen more footage of his disgusting self doing things to young children than any sane person should ever have to endure.

“We ain’t got nothing, huh? Then what do you call these?” Fin shoved a pile of video capture printouts across the desk toward Gannon. John tried to focus on Gannon’s face and not the images; he’d seen quite enough of them already while going through the videos for anything to help identify the victims, the other adult participants, and where they might have been filmed. “You telling me that’s not you in these pictures?”

Gannon shrugged and pushed the photos away after barely giving them a glance. “Technology today, who can say? You can do whatever you want with a computer. Editing software, what do they call that, ‘photoshop’...you could make just about any random guy off the street look like me in a blurry photograph like that. Hell, that could even be _you_ in that picture. Is that what’s got you so worked up, Detective? Cut a little too close to the _bone_ for you?”

John couldn’t move fast enough to stop his partner from pulling Gannon out of his chair and slamming him against the wall. Hands at Gannon's throat, Fin started screaming, “What did you just say? _What did you just say, you son of a bitch!”_

“Fin—”

“You sick piece of shit I’ll put your head through this wall—”

“Fin! Stop it! _Fin—”_

John tried to pull them apart but he wasn’t strong enough on his own against Fin’s boiling over rage. Fortunately the cavalry arrived almost immediately, Stabler and Cragen rushing in to help pull Fin and Gannon apart.

“That bastard just tried to kill me!” Gannon whined, clutching at his throat once released from Fin’s death grip.

“If I tried to kill you, you’d be dead right now, mother—”

“ _Out, now,_ ” Cragen ordered, pushing Fin out the door with Elliot and John right behind him.

“That went well,” Alex said with a sigh. The ADA been watching, waiting for anything that would give her enough to get a location and then wake a judge for a warrant. But while they had Gannon from their one young victim’s i.d. and the video evidence, he wouldn’t give up anything on where his perverted filth was being recorded for distribution online—and where the other children featured in the videos were being kept.

“Maybe it’s time to try being nice cop now. I’ll go back in with him alone,” John offered.

“No you will not,” Cragen said. “I’m sending Olivia and Elliot in to finish this one. That is, if Gannon doesn’t immediately lawyer up on us now thanks to what just happened in there.”

“But Captain...”

“It’s okay, John. We’ve got this.” Olivia put a hand on his arm, tilted her head toward Fin. Elliot had walked him down the hallway and was trying to talk him down—a bit of a role reversal from how things usually went at the 16th, but it seemed the long days on this case had pushed Fin past his limit. “You take care of your partner. Take him home, it’s beyond late. I think you could both use some air right now.”

“I do feel about ready to suffocate from the stench in there,” John admitted.

He glanced at Cragen who nodded in agreement. “Get out of here until the morning. And don’t let me see your partner until then, either, and only if he’s got himself under control. We don’t need all of the hard work busting this operation to go to hell at this point because one of us can't manage his temper.”

“Okay.” John walked over to Elliot and Fin, who still looked ready to punch someone. _Hopefully not me_ , John thought as he gingerly put an arm on his partner’s shoulders. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“I ain’t going nowhere.”

“Captain’s orders you are. That is if you still want your job tomorrow.”

“Fuck this shit. Fuck that piece of shit in there, just one more minute and—”

“—and you’d be up before the Rat Squad and that son of a bitch would be walking home,” Elliot interrupted.

“Not if he’s in a body bag.” The threat of violence hadn’t left Fin’s voice, but the power of his anger seemed to dissipate as John held on to him, keeping him back.

“Trust me, I get it,” Elliot said. “You think I don’t feel the same way every time we’re dealing with one of these child porn freaks? But they love to do that, get in your head, mess with you, try to project their own sickness on everyone else.”

“Captain wants you and ’Liv to take over from here,” John said to him. Elliot nodded and walked toward where his partner, Cragen and Alex were all waiting. John turned back to Fin. “Come on. Give me your keys.”

“What?”

“Give me your keys, I’m driving you home.”

Fin looked ready to protest, but John fixed his best pleading look on his partner. “Come on,” he said more quietly. “This case isn’t going anywhere. But you need to step back and get away from it. Just a few hours, ’til morning.”

Grudgingly Fin nodded, defeat sagging his shoulders. “Keys in my locker. Let me get my things.”

"Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

Each and every one of them had their make-or-break case working in Special Victims. The case that proved you either had what it took to stomach sex crimes long term, or left you filing transfer papers as soon as possible and swearing you’d never set foot in the 16th precinct again.

Almost two years in since his transfer here, and Fin had finally met his. 

John could tell this case had been getting to his partner early on, and truthfully it was the kind of case he hated them being the ones to catch. Kiddie porn was terrible enough, but it was especially vile when it involved children being sold into what was little more than sexual slavery for the production of that kind of filth. What they’d uncovered so far appeared to involve pornographers offering drug money to desperate addicts in exchange for their young, neglected children, kids who mattered less to their loser parents than getting their fix. And when the kids became too broken, or too _old_ , well...there was a different market for those kinds of videos, too. Ones that dealt with methods of “disposal”. 

The case had hit their desks after one young victim had managed to escape his captors, turning up lost and confused in a convenience store near Penn Station looking for something to eat. Taye, an African-American kid who was eleven years old, who had no idea who his father was and whose mother—once they’d been able to identify her—had in fact OD’ed on heroin six weeks before. Two weeks after Taye remembered a strange man showing up at their hovel of an apartment to exchange cash for his life. 

At least there was no chance Taye would be going home to that sorry excuse for a mother now. 

John and Fin been working the case for over a week, falling further and further into this bleak world of sickness based what hazy information Taye could provide, and what Computer Crimes had been able to connect to an online child porn ring they’d been working to bust for several months. Now they had one of the ringleaders in custody thanks to Taye’s identification and the video evidence, but Gannon was stubborn. Probably afraid himself of the others in the operation, men who seemed to have dangerous connections to organized crime in the city and maybe beyond US borders as well. 

John tried to shake it all out of his thoughts for a few hours, concentrate on driving instead of the disgusting images burned into his braincells. Maybe Olivia and Elliot could get something out of Gannon at this point; he could only hope as much. He was well and truly ready to put this one behind him and clearly Fin was the same. 

The drive didn’t take very long at this time of the night, as traffic was quiet crosstown and over the Manhattan Bridge into Brooklyn. Fin had nothing to say to him during the ride, leaving John to his own thoughts, worried more for his partner than what was still happening back at the precinct. 

“This decent parking?” John asked when they were about two blocks from the apartment building. He knew the way to Fin’s place easy enough as it wasn’t the first time he’d dropped him off after a long day, but he wasn’t all that familiar with the neighborhood. 

“Good enough.” 

They got out and locked the car, John tossing the keys back to Fin as they walked toward his apartment building. John hoped for the okay to crash on Fin’s sofa for the rest of night as he’d done on more than a few nights in the past. At this late hour it would be a slow subway trip even back to the 16th to use the crib, let alone all the way uptown to his own place. He suspected cabs weren’t too frequent in this area, especially not at this hour of the night. Fin didn’t complain as John followed him inside, up to the third floor of the walk-up and his small one bedroom unit. Though he did insist, “You don’t need to babysit me, I’ll be fine,” as they stepped inside and Fin took off his coat, hung it in the narrow closet where he also stored his holster and firearm. 

“You kicking me out? Can’t I relax for a bit first before figuring how I’m getting home for what few hours remain of this night?” 

“Fine. Do what you want.” 

Fin sulked off to the living room sofa, kicking off his shoes as he sat down and glared at the far wall as if it had committed some mortal sin of its own. John shrugged off his coat, hanging it next to Fin’s and also storing his own weapon there. He had no intention of leaving unless forcibly removed before morning. He headed to the kitchen, checking the cabinet over the fridge where he knew Fin kept his liquor. Not a lot of options to choose from, he found, but good old Jack would do on a night like tonight. John grabbed the bottle and two glasses, brought them into the living room and took a seat on the old leather sofa beside his partner. 

“Who said you could raid my stash?” 

“Shut up and have a drink, you need it and so do I. Man, you are as pissy tonight as my last ex when she was on the rag.” 

“I don’t like being kicked off a case.” 

“You didn’t get kicked off. You just got kicked out of the interrogation for nearly turning our perp into a busted piñata.” He shoved a glass with two fingers of whiskey at Fin, who took it grudgingly but merely held it in his hands, contemplating. John tossed back his own drink, winced, and waited for the sharp alcohol burn to turn into a more rewarding mellowness. He poured himself a second but left it to sit on the coffee table as he turned to Fin and asked, “So you want to tell me why this one is getting to you so bad?” 

“It’s not obvious to you?” 

“No. I mean, yes, of course we’re dealing with more than your garden variety sickos and criminals here. I hope we get all of the bastards behind this operation and that they get to experience prison hospitality as only reserved for their kind, and for a very long time. But it’s more than that. This is your one.” 

“My one what?” 

“The one case that’s either going to keep you around SVU or send you packing. I can tell because I’ve been there. But I would really prefer not to lose another partner so quickly, especially after all of the work I’ve put into being your mentor.” 

Fin snorted. “I didn’t know you cared, Munch.” 

“Just cut the shit and tell me what’s going on with you right now. Let me help.” 

Fin sighed and finally drank his whiskey. John offered a second pour but Fin waived him off. “I don’t know, man, I don’t know.” He pulled one knee up, resting his elbow on his thigh and rubbing his face with one hand. 

“Yes you do,” John said in a softer tone, offering a sympathetic look as Fin turned his way. Fin didn’t open up easily, John knew that all too well. Months had passed before Fin had offered even the smallest glances into his life, started treating John as an actual friend instead of merely a coworker. So now John waited, prepared for the words come out only when and if Fin felt ready to share them. 

After a long, silent pause, Fin finally broke down and began to talk. “I haven’t been able to sleep all week, in case you couldn’t tell.” 

“You have been scowling at me with a little less of your normal vim and vigor.” 

“Yeah, well, I keep...every time I close my eyes I see those kids. I see things from the videos we’ve had to watch while trying to identify them or where they’re being kept and...” Fin pressed his palm into his forehead and closed his eyes, squeezed them shut as if trying to force back the emotions threatening to overcome him. “That damn kid, Taye.” 

“What about him?” 

“He reminds me so much of my own son when he was that age. Even _looks_ a lot like he did. Started me thinking how I was never there for Ken back then. What if someone had gotten to him like that...” 

“But no one did.” 

“Far as I know. But what _do_ I know? We don’t have a great relationship. You know I haven’t even seen him in over a year. I call on his birthday, he calls on Christmas. I send money to his mother, pay my share of the bills...but neither of them want anything to do with me. I don’t even blame them at this point.” 

“That’s got to be tough.” Ex-wives were bad enough to deal with, John knew all too well. Every day he woke up glad that at least there’d never been any children to get caught up in his messy personal affairs...or to have to worry about given all the things he saw happen to kids on a daily basis thanks to his job. 

“It’s real tough. That’s why I don’t talk about it much. Or try to even think about it.” Fin’s gaze traveled toward the whiskey bottle. John responded by refilling Fin’s glass, then lifting his own so they could do the second round together. It went down smoother than the first, and having skipped dinner John could feel the alcohol already starting to spread some relief and relaxation through his tired bones. 

“No wonder this one’s bothered you so much.” 

“I guess. Seein’ these kids with parents who don’t give a shit about what happens to them...me wondering if I was much of anything better as a father...” 

“Stop it. You never abused your son.”  
  
“No, but I practically abandoned him, didn’t I? Now...now I don’t even really know who he is.” 

The emotions Fin tried so hard to keep in check started to break through the surface, catching in his choked voice. But he had no reason to feel ashamed; the dark sights and realities from this grueling week, the lack of sleep, it all would have gotten to anyone at this point. Fin wouldn’t ever _ask_ for a shoulder to cry on, John knew that. But he also knew Fin needed one more than anything tonight, and that was why he wasn’t going anywhere. 

John took off his glasses, set them aside on the coffee table. He didn’t need them to see his partner’s current anguish, but he needed Fin to see the naked truth in his own eyes. John leaned in to take Fin by the shoulders, wanting him to focus on his words and his eyes only, not his troubled and twisted thoughts. “Fin, listen to me. You’re a good man, and I’m going to bet you’re a hell of a lot better father than you think you are. You’re letting this case mess with your mind too much, and you’ve got to let go of it. Talk it out, scream, cry...whatever it takes right now but don’t bottle it up because it’s poison. You have to get it out of your system. If you don’t, it’s going to eat you up inside and I’ve seen that happen to too many people I’ve cared about. I don’t want to see it happen to you.” 

“I’m not—” 

“No. No excuses.” John pulled him into a hug, sliding his hands around Fin’s shoulders and his back. He knew this kind of intimate contact could easily freak out his normally uptight, reserved partner and he might end up getting kicked out of his apartment after all tonight. But he was already at risk of losing Fin if the man couldn’t open up and accept the emotional and physical support from a friend that he needed. 

As he expected, Fin stiffened in his arms for a moment, as if ready to push him away. John refused let go. And after a time Fin began to relax, the tension in his body easing slightly as he tentatively reached to hug John in return. 

“I’m here for you. Whatever you need...it stays here,” John promised. He held on and fell silent, simply taking his own comfort from their physical closeness which he’d desired longer than he cared to think about, even if not under such circumstances. Fin rested his head on John’s shoulder, feeling so heavy with the weight of his emotional and physical exhaustion. His breaths grew ragged against John’s neck and John could feel the tremors of pain building to necessary release, not in heavy sobs but instead the silent pain of a man taught never to cry, to never show such vulnerability and weakness in front of others. 

John closed his eyes and held on, resting his own head against Fin’s in relief and simply being there for support. He needed this, too, even if his reasons weren’t quite the same. 

His thoughts drifted through so many of the things he wanted to say and he wished for the time to say properly to his partner—things he’d never shared with Fin before about his own life, the dark places he’d been in his own head and on the job. Things he’d seen and done that he’d always question and that never fully let him go...some that always kept him waiting for the day the past could come back and destroy the new life he’d tried to build for himself here in New York. 

This new life, his new friends and colleagues...this man in his arms right now whom John was fairly certain he had fallen in love with, as unexpected as that had been to realize at the time. 

How that had happened, maybe he’d never figure it out for certain. On the surface they were nothing alike, practically a joke around the precinct for being such a curious partnership that never should have worked and yet it did. Fin was a quiet, serious and earnest man who believed in justice first, questions later—a fucking _Republican_ of all things. And here was John, an old hippie liberal with too big of a mouth and a heart that had been broken too many times to still be such a fool to fall in love again. 

They came from entirely different backgrounds and cultures, and yet with time Fin had gone from annoying John to intriguing him to becoming the focus of far too many of his idle thoughts. The attraction had grown from familiarity and friendship and the challenge of their differences—a curiosity for someone who usually fell for the most beautiful face in the room. 

Maybe he’d finally realized that was why he had four ex-wives at this point, and spent most nights sleeping alone. 

John pondered these things while he held tight to Fin, letting his emotions run their course. Eventually Fin’s breathing calmed and steadied, his hold on John relaxing even though he didn’t immediately retreat from their embrace. In fact he only seemed to settle more comfortably into it, a clenched fist opening to spread warm fingers against John’s back. “Sorry,” he said with a small sniffle. 

“Nothing to apologize for. That’s why I’m here.” In fact he could happily stay here for quite a while longer, holding Fin close. When was the last time he’d simply had someone to hold onto, like this? 

“So what was yours,” Fin asked. 

“What was my what?” 

“The case that nearly did you in.” 

John breathed in deeply, then let the air out slowly to steady himself. Now he fought the instinctive urge to retreat and pull away, but instead drew strength from Fin’s nearness to momentarily revisit his own bleakest hour at SVU. “It wasn’t too different from this one, actually. Involved this piano teacher in a rough neighborhood. Everybody thought he was this big hero for helping all of these poor, inner city kids explore ‘culture’ and learn about music. 

“Turned out he’d been abusing his young pupils for years...decades, even, in some cases. We found photos, videos...a room with almost nothing but _shelves_ of videotapes, a private collection like you wouldn’t want to imagine. A catalog of young boys growing into teenagers...one of his ‘star’ students even being trained into becoming an abuser himself.” 

“Jesus.” 

“It was bad. And one of us had to go through the tapes to try to identify all the victims, build the case. I volunteered, thinking I could handle it. Let me be noble and spare the others...” Because Olivia had barely made it through one tape before looking as if she wanted to die, and John always hated to see her cry. Elliot was too volatile, and with young kids of his own sure to take it all too personally. And Monique...John had suspected she was more fragile than she was letting on, after the explosion that had nearly killed her. He soon turned out to be right, but not in the ways he’d suspected. 

So he’d martyred himself, taking one for the team. And like Fin now, it had been more than he’d been prepared to handle, a journey too deep into a sick mind that had nearly torn his own apart in the process. At night, for weeks, all he’d been able to see were those poor kids; all he could hear were their echoed cries of “no” and “please don’t”, over and over. 

Years later, he still couldn’t listen to certain piano pieces without feeling nauseated. 

“I nearly walked, nearly...” He stopped before saying it, before voicing the even darker urges which had crossed his mind to permanently get what he’d seen out of his head. “But Don talked me down, got my head back where it needed to be.” 

“I’m guessing that didn’t involve Jack Daniels and hugging it out with the captain.” 

John laughed, feeling relieved at hearing a lighter tone in Fin’s voice at last. “We all have our own methods of support and coercion.” 

“I guess so.” Fin seemed to finally take note of how their current situation had begun to turn into an unusually extended cuddling session. He pulled back and looked more than a little embarrassed, traces of moisture dampening his skin beneath reddened eyes. John reached up without thinking to brush away the remnants of shed tears from one cheek, only afterwards realizing how blatant he was being with that touch. 

And yet Fin didn’t appear taken aback. He held his partner’s gaze, very subtly tilting his chin upwards in a gesture that surprised John, yet he also took as invitation to proceed one step further while he had this opportunity that might never present itself again. 

So he closed the very short distance between them with a kiss. 

He realized, as he did so, that kissing Fin was probably incredibly stupid and the _last_ thing he should be doing at this moment. Only Fin wasn’t pushing him away. And though he’d intended it to be just a questioning brush on the lips, once contact was made he didn’t want to end it. Fin didn’t seem to want him to, either, urging him close again, one hand moving up John’s back to the nape of his neck, caressing, keeping him right where he was. 

John only broke the kiss when overtaken by a breathless burst of the laughter, Fin’s mustache tickling his own upper lip unexpectedly. His laughter earned a deep chuckle in response, followed by, “What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing.” John caressed Fin’s cheek again, this time letting his fingers trail down to his chin, his neatly-trimmed goatee. “Never kissed a guy with facial hair before. That I can remember, at least. It’s a little weird.” 

“Weird doesn’t even begin to describe this, Munch.” 

“True.” 

Fin’s eyes darted shyly between John’s and the very small space between them. “So you’ve kissed other guys.” 

“I may have crossed that bridge a few times before,” John admitted. 

“Then one of us knows what he’s doing right now.” 

“Right now I don’t feel like I have a clue. Except this feels...good.” John kissed Fin again, lightly, trying to control himself. “All I want is to make you feel good.” 

“You already have.” 

This time Fin took the lead, his hand still on the back of John’s neck and going for another kiss, this time deeper, open-mouthed. Urgent. John was struck by the sudden knowledge that he clearly wasn’t the only one to have been wanting this to happen between them, but for how long? And why? 

But maybe those weren’t things that merited concern at this particular moment in time. Not when he had Fin’s tongue brushing over his teeth and Fin seeming intent to steal the very oxygen from his lungs. 

So he tried to push everything aside to simply be in this moment. To breathe in, taste, feel, let his world and every thought become nothing but was happening here. It had been months since he’d been with anyone, and far longer since simply _kissing_ someone had made him feel like this, giddy and alive, hungry for more than simple physical pleasure and release. 

Yet suddenly Fin stopped, looking guilty and confused. “Wait, this is fucked up. One minute we’re talking about pedophiles, the next we’re...” 

“No. Fin, it’s not fucked up. Everything out there, _that’s_ what’s fucked up. Not this.” He placed palm against Fin’s chest, over his heart. “We get fucked up when we can’t leave it behind, when we punish ourselves for others’ sickness. _This..._ here...this has nothing to do with what’s going on outside.” He knew separating the two wasn’t easy, and was why so many relationships failed in their line of work. Hell, he certainly had the track record to prove it. But without hope and joy and love, what did they have to keep them going? 

Fin looked unsure, still, so John kissed him lightly on his lowered forehead, hands gently caressing, trying to soothe his doubts. He continued with soft kisses over one cheek, on the bridge of his nose, down the very tip of it until he could see Fin smiling and on the verge of laughing again, his smile bringing out those adorable dimples Fin normally guarded like treasured gold. 

By the time John had worked his way back to that mouth, Fin responded with renewed eagerness, moaning against his lips in a way that shot straight through John’s body from his mouth to his dick. Fin pushed against him, urging John down onto the pillowy leather sofa. Awkward for a moment, trying to position themselves more comfortably while not wanting to let go, John soon found himself covered by the heavy weight of Fin’s body, one hand grasping the back his head, the other fumbling to loosen his tie. He wanted to help, but he also was enjoying the frustrated eagerness in Fin’s touch. He felt for the elastic holding Fin’s ponytail tight and worked on that instead, wanting to finally know how it felt to tangle his fingers in that thick, wavy hair, to feel it and see it come undone. 

Just like he wanted to see Fin come undone. 

Fin made what could almost be described as a purring sound as John worked loose his hair, momentarily forgetting about the tie. He’d never seen Fin with his hair down, loose and falling about his face and the sight of it only made John harder and more turned on than he already was. Fin’s mouth moved from John’s lips across his jawline, up to find a tender earlobe while John toyed with his long hair. John shuddered and arched up, feeling teeth and a hot, wet tongue doing extremely delicious and vulgar things to his sensitive skin. 

“Always wondered what that would do to you,” Fin teased, breathing hot air against John’s ear. 

“Always, huh? My dumbo ears make you horny?” John joked, only to try to squelch down on how close to exploding Fin was bringing him. Curse genetics for giving him such a vulnerable erogenous zone. He yelped when Fin bit down and playfully tugged on the tender lobe, although the short jolt of pain helped bring him back from the edge, mercifully. 

Kisses, licks and exploring touches continued on in a blissful blur, occasionally interrupted with awkward attempts to loosen clothing, seeking access to the bodies beneath. John’s tie eventually found its way to the floor, his dress shirt half-unbuttoned, t-shirt tugged out from the waistband of his pants. Fin’s knit top provided easier access, allowing John to slide his hand up from beneath, seeking out the warm skin of Fin’s back which was damp now with a light sheen of sweat. Fin groaned and bit down on John’s neck as he did so, squirming in a way that made the hardness of his erection known against John’s thigh. 

John would have loved to have ripped his pants off, rolled him over to suck him dry, but he didn’t want to stop kissing him right now, either. This felt too good, all of it did, and if Fin wasn’t experienced with men John didn’t want to push him too hard or too fast. 

John slid his hand lower down, over the curve of Fin’s ass. He arched up to meet the grinding movements of his partner against him, this pantomime of intercourse, friction bringing pleasure even through the disheveled layers of their clothing. They were so close yet so teasingly separated, Fin’s tongue fucking his mouth like his imprisoned cock no doubt wanted to fuck his body. 

Hopefully, John thought, they’d get to that some time soon enough. 

Fin suddenly moaned against John’s mouth, his body seizing up with abrupt tension and then falling soft against him. Fin shuddered and dropped his head to the hollow of John’s neck, letting out a string of curses before starting to laugh. 

“What’s so funny now?” John asked. 

“I just fucking came in my pants. I haven’t done that since I was a teenager, making out with the girls in the school bathroom.” 

John clucked his tongue. “Well, when was the last time you made out with a skinny ass white boy?” 

“Never.” 

“There’s your answer.” 

“Never thought I wanted to...’til I met you.” Fin lifted his head to look at John, who had to smile at seeing those brown eyes which had earlier had been so haunted from pain now warm with orgasmic glow. 

“Keep stroking my ego like that and there’s a lot more nevers I’ll be crossing off your list.” 

“How about stroking something else...” Fin shifted on the sofa so he was lying more against John’s right side. His hand slid over John’s pants, his own hard and straining erection, making him suck in his breath and grind up against the Fin’s palm. “You like that?” 

“Now is not the time for rhetorical questions, Fin.” 

“Stop with the bullshit talk and just tell me if you want it.” 

“Fuck, yes.” 

“That’s better.” 

Fin fumbled with the buckle of his belt while John lay back, refusing to help out. Fin’s obvious frustration amused him far too much and the anticipation only made him want it more. Fin finally succeeded in loosening his belt and then moved on to the button and inner hook of his pants, then unzipping him. He arched up just enough for Fin to tug his pants down and out of the way, hearing Fin chuckle as his hand ran over the thin fabric of his shorts. 

“Fucking silk, man, I should have known.” 

Fin’s hot touch through the thin fabric felt so good, John couldn’t find the words to make a witty comeback. He also couldn’t decide what he wanted more—for Fin to just keep doing what he was doing right now, or to peel away those shorts an take him directly in hand. This, right here, right at this moment was surely going to be enough to send him over the edge...especially as Fin started sucking and biting at his neck while caressing him, teeth grazing over his flesh hard enough it would surely bruise and he didn’t fucking care. He wanted to wear those bruises tomorrow like a badge of pride. 

But then again, maybe he didn’t want to have to wear a pair of jizz-soaked shorts into the office since he didn’t exactly have a spare on hand. 

“Fin...please...” 

“Oh, I like hearing you beg,” Fin answered, seeming to know exactly what John needed. He moved his hand up and under the elastic waistband, sliding those shorts down just enough to take John’s erection in hand. The direct touch after all of that teasing and wanting was too much. Only a few hard strokes with Fin still nibbling on his neck and he lost it, coming into Fin’s hand, spasms of pleasure and relief leaving him feeling wrecked and spent in the best possible way. 

Fin shifted up against him to find his mouth once more, to share lazy, languid kisses as he continued stroking John more gently, then slid a sticky hand up to his belly to caress in gentle circles. Everything about this situation felt so perfectly ridiculous and wonderful; like Fin had said, somehow strangely akin to the awkward yet incredible sexual fumblings of adolescence. He’d almost forgotten what that had felt like, but the closet romantic inside him delighted in knowing it one more time in his life. 

Fin laughed in between kisses, seemingly as giddy as John at the absurdity of their current situation. “We are gonna be one sloppy ass sticky mess in the morning.” 

“Do you want to move and clean up?” 

“No.” 

“Me neither.” John shifted so they could attempt laying side-by-side on the sofa that was just barely wide enough for the two of them and not nearly long enough for his legs. But he kicked his pants off fully so that he could wrap one leg over Fin’s thighs and snuggle closer, Fin’s head against his chest so that he could stroke his hair. 

“This feels good,” Fin murmured against him. 

“It really does.” 

“We’re crazy, right? Officially lost our minds.” 

“Even without a diagnosis from the esteemed Doctor Huang, I’d say the answer is unequivocally yes. I think you have to be a little crazy to work this job. And you definitely need to be certifiably insane to get involved with me.” 

“Mm hmm.” Fin already sounded on his way to dreamland as he mumbled his agreement, so John stopped talking and let the urge to sleep win over him as well. He briefly thought that he really should set the alarm on his phone for the morning, but he didn’t feel up to making the effort or moving one single inch. 

There was a joke in there, somewhere, about how Fin was both an irresistible force and immovable object in his life, but John was too sleepy and content to think it through to a properly clever conclusion. 

Maybe tomorrow. For tonight he drifted off with a smile on his lips and Fin snoring peacefully in his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

An insistent, irritating melody nagged at John’s ears, dragging him out of what had otherwise been a blissfully deep sleep. As he slowly started to wake up, he realized that the annoying tune wasn’t something imagined in his dreams but instead emanating from his cellphone. He opened his eyes, blinking away the bright daylight, and for a moment was puzzled by the tetris-like jumble of limbs in which he found himself ensnared.

Ah, Fin, he began to happily recall. His partner was still sleeping, still gently snoring against John’s chest and leaving his t-shirt damp with drool in the process. It was the sweetest thing, really, and John hated to disturb him. But as soon as the phone stopped ringing for a moment, it started up again, and John couldn’t even be sure where his phone _was_.

“Okay, Sleeping Beauty. Gotta move.” He carefully tried to disentangle himself and nudge Fin off him, cursing as old joints not meant for couch-sleeping made themselves painfully known. Fin began to stir as John fumbled for his glasses and realized the phone was in his pants pocket. He grabbed his pants off the floor and retrieved the phone to flip it open and answer “Munch” while still functioning largely on auto-pilot.

“Well good morning, Detective.” Cragen’s voice cut sharply through the fog in John’s brain. “By any chance were you planning on showing up at work today? And do you happen know if your partner is?”

“What time...” John pulled the phone back from his ear to check the hour on the digital display. Cursed again as he read 8:33 on the screen. “Sorry, Captain, overslept. Crashed at Fin’s after taking him home. We’ll be there a.s.a.p.”

“Actually if you can manage to get yourselves to the following address in thirty minutes, just head straight there and meet up with Benson and Stabler.” The captain rattled off a street location in Queens; mentally John figured they could manage it, just barely, although neither was going to be a pretty sight when they did.

“Yeah, okay. What’s up?”

“Gannon lawyered up after you left but that ended up being a good thing. The suit convinced him to give up the location of his little wonderland and the names of his fellow filmmakers in exchange for a reduced sentence for his cooperation. Backup is already on the way but I assume you both want to be party to the action.”

“Yes, Captain, and sorry, Captain, we’re on it.” John flipped shut the phone and turned to Fin, only wishing he had time to appreciate how wonderfully debauched the man looked at the moment. Fin blinked up questioningly at him and John ordered, “You have two minutes. Get yourself some clean clothes and get me a hair brush and some cologne. We need to haul ass.”

“Shit.”

Fin was on his feet in no time, rushing to his bedroom while John tried to sort out his clothes the best he could. Thankfully nothing was stained such that it couldn’t be covered by his jacket or tucked into his pants. He ran into the kitchen to splash some water on his face and hair, and when he returned Fin was dressed and waiting for him, brush and small cologne bottle in hand which John took with gratitude.

“Ready?” he asked, heading to the hall closet to get his coat and his weapon. He’d try to do something with his hair in the car.

“Wait, hold on.” Fin ran back to the bedroom, banged around for a few seconds before coming back with a purple and black patterned scarf. “You’ve got a hickey the size of God, man. Sorry.”

“Worth it.” John didn’t even want to look. “Seriously, though, purple?”

“My momma gave me that scarf last Christmas. You got a problem with it?”

“In that case, absolutely not.” He wrapped the fabric around his neck, grabbed Fin by the shoulder and said, “Let’s go.”

* * *

They cut through morning traffic as best as they could but it still wasn’t easy at this time of the day. When they arrived at the location Cragen had given John, they came upon a staging area already well in action. One bus flew by, sirens blaring while another was still on the scene, several small children wrapped in blankets sitting in the back and being attended to by EMTs.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Elliot called out to the two late-arriving detectives from the middle of the scene.

“What happened?” John asked.

“We had to move in faster than planned. The warehouse location we got from Gannon is over on the next block, but they must have had a lookout on the street, spotted our vehicles moving into position here. White van came tearing out, had to give chase while everyone else moved in fast.”

“Damn.”

“Don’t worry, we got ’em all, even the scum trying to get away. Six kids recovered so far who all match up with ones in the videos; Olivia’s inside with more unis combing the place to make sure there aren’t any others in hiding. There’s evidence in there that’ll take CSU days to collect and process.”

“Well then we might as we get to lending a hand,” John said, turning to Fin who nodded and followed in step beside him.

* * *

Later that afternoon they were back at the 16th with plenty of clean-up work to complete before they could even begin to put this one to bed. Olivia had spent most of the afternoon at the hospital, talking to the rescued children as they were checked out for injuries and until ACS arrived to make arrangements for further care and temporary placement. The detectives couldn’t get much out of Gannon’s associates before they were crying for their lawyers, but they didn’t have to. With all the evidence recovered and accumulated to date, and with Gannon flipping on the others, Cabot was certain they had an open-and-shut case against all involved.

The heavy workload didn’t leave John much time to dwell on what had happened the night before with Fin, although fleeting thoughts of it helped him get through some of the bleaker moments and grim details of the day. Fin, too, seemed much more focused and calm now than the night before—or at least, no longer on the verge of trying to make a hole a precinct wall using one of their perps as a battering ram, which was a good thing for all parties involved.

When John had a moment to breathe as the day was finally wearing down, he popped his head in the captain’s office to offer an apology. “Sorry again that we were late this morning and missed being part of the raid. Been a rough week...think I’m coming down with something,” he added, lying only about the last part as he indicated Fin’s scarf still wrapped around his neck.

“Better you both late than me having to take anyone’s badge, and your partner was skirting dangerously close to the edge of that yesterday. So whatever you did to pull him away from it, nice work.”

“Just a matter of putting things in perspective. You know how it is when one of these cases hits an especially deep nerve.”

“But you’re holding up, otherwise?”

“Yeah.” John paused, slipping his hands into his pockets with a sigh. Don would of course remember. “I mean, couldn’t help but think back on the Holt case. But this time around...I’m okay.”

Cragen nodded. “I know there’s a lot more work to complete here, but get some rest this weekend, John. You and Fin both. No offense but you look like you need it.”

“None taken and I plan on it.”

As he left the office and headed back to his desk, he passed Olivia and Elliot who both had their coats in hand, looking ready to call it a night themselves.

“John, Fin, we’re hitting Maloney’s for a quick round before heading home. Join us?” Olivia asked.

John dropped into his chair. “Actually I think I’ll take a pass tonight. I haven’t seen a shower in a few days, so I’ll stick with that for my hot date.”

“Yeah, I’m in the same way,” Fin added in agreement.

“All right. See you guys Monday if nothing hits over the weekend.”

“Let us pray for small miracles.”

John got back to double-checking the last of the day’s paperwork he wanted to complete before clocking out. Only a few minutes passed before Fin came over and parked himself on the edge of his desk. “Think I owe _you_ the ride home tonight, if you want,” he said, trying for casual indifference and failing miserably.

John cocked an eyebrow at his partner. “Just a ride?”

“Yeah, well. You know. The scenery in your ’hood is so wonderful I can’t get enough of it.” Fin nudged John in the leg with the toe of his shoe. “’Course not, dumbass.”

“You’re such a romantic.” John winked, and Fin grinned before swallowing his smile quickly. “And you’re adorable when you get embarrassed,” John added softly, enjoying Fin’s squirming discomfort far too much.

“Shut up and let’s get out of here. I got _plans_ for you.”

Just the tone in Fin’s voice made John’s cock twitch—that and the look in Fin’s eyes, betraying the cool demeanor he’d maintained all day around the others. John hadn’t intended on pushing things, given the emotional stress that had led to the previous night’s events. But clearly Fin was eager to pick up where they’d left off and he had no objections to that idea whatsoever.

“In that case, this can definitely wait until Monday.” John closed the topmost file on his desk and rose to his feet. “Care to tell me about these plans of yours on the way or shall I use my imagination?”

“Your imagination could be dangerous, but I’ll take that risk. Just give me your keys, ’cause I’m driving.”

“Oooh, baby. Lead the way.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

The evening’s drive—this time to John’s apartment—took place once again largely in contemplative silence. A different kind of tension charged the air, however, one laced with anticipation for the night ahead and not dread nor anger over the day’s events. John closed his eyes and tried to put work out of his mind as Fin took them up the West Side Highway, traffic light except for those  late to fleeing the city for the weekend. He still couldn’t quite convince himself this was happening, that Fin was coming home with him tonight, even as his body, his senses, the heady scent of Fin still lingering to his skin and clothes provided proof of what they’d already done together the night before.

“My car okay parked here?” Fin asked as he found a spot on the street, around the corner from John’s apartment building.

“Sure. Just don’t leave anything remotely valuable in it.”

“Why you gotta live in such a shitty neighborhood.”

“Because the rent’s cheap and I have room for all of my things.”

“All your books and crazy conspiracy crap.”

“It’s not crap. And if you want crazy, look at the propaganda the mainstream media espouses on the so-called ‘news’ every night.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Didn’t mean to get you riled up.”

John collected his mail on the way in, before his over-stuffed mailbox exploded its contents all over the landing of the apartment complex. Of course, once he got inside his apartment a short time later, said mail ended up scattered on the floor anyway—thanks to Fin, who barely gave him a chance to lock the door and turn around before pinning him to the wall for a kiss that hit him more like a knockout punch.

If John had any doubts about Fin’s desires, they were now tossed to the floor alongside his bills, magazines, and junk mail. His ability to think straight took flight for several minutes as well. Not that he minded; he could do far worse on a Friday night at home than to start it off with Fin kissing him senseless.

“Been wanting that all day,” Fin sighed against John’s lips, finally taking a break for a deep breath.

“Gee, I couldn't have guessed. Worth the wait?”

“We’re just getting started here.” Fin took John’s lower lip in his teeth, sucking it hard and leaving him wondering what kind of monster he’d released in his partner last night.

Whatever kind it was, he _liked_ it.

“Finally checked out what you did to me in the bathroom at the precinct, you brute,” John said once his lip was freed from captivity.

“Let me see again.” Fin unfurled the scarf around John’s neck to observe his handiwork—or rather, _mouth_ work—from the night before. “Mmm, you bruise up real pretty.” Fin pulled on the ends of the scarf to hold John’s head in place, pressing his lips on the tender skin of his neck. “Maybe I’ll make it so you've got a matching pair tonight. See where else I can leave a mark.”

John shivered, caught deliciously between the dull ache of Fin teasing his tender skin and not wanting him to stop. “You know, for someone who claims to have never done this kind of thing before, you are too fucking good at it.”

“Had a long time to think about...all the things I’d do to you if I ever got the chance.”

“Why didn’t you say something until now?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Touché.” John cupped Fin’s chin to lift his head, needing another taste of him—even if he tasted mostly of stale coffee and fast food burgers, the only things they’d managed to grab to eat or drink all day. Such was the romance and excitement of police life. “Listen, even if we’re about to get down and dirty here, I seriously could use that hot shower first. Care to join in?”

“See if you can stop me.”

John tossed his coat, jacket and holster on the sofa on his way to the bathroom, Fin right behind him. His place was a disaster area, as usual, but Fin had seen it before and not run out screaming in horror so he wasn’t going to worry about it now. He turned on the water in the shower to give it a few minutes to warm up as they both undressed.

“I’m afraid you’re about to get your first exposure to The Full Munch in all my pasty white glory.” John worked swiftly on the buttons of his dress shirt, throwing it out into the hallway so it wouldn’t get underfoot.

“Don’t want nothing less.”

Pants, socks, t-shirt, underwear...all were shed with equal haste and tossed out of the way. John tried not to feel self-conscious and concentrate only on his first sight of Fin’s naked body. But then Fin’s eyes went wide and he started, “What the...” unable to finish his sentence.

“Well, they did finally stop calling me Munchkin after that nude photo I told you about ended up on display in Baltimore, right across from the precinct...Oh, you mean _that_ ,” John sighed when he noticed where Fin’s eyes were fixated—not on his dick but instead his upper abdomen.

“Please tell me _why_ you have that tattoo and how the _hell_ you’ve gotten away with it on the force.”

“The regrettable follies of my misspent youth. Fortunately I managed to conceal it until it was the least of my transgressions to worry about.” John sucked in his breath as Fin’s hand brushed over his bare skin, touching the long-ago inked flesh he’d regretted many, _many_ times over, but not enough to go through the pain and hassle of trying to get it removed or covered with any new artwork.

Fin just shook his head and tsked like a disappointed schoolteacher. “Couple years ago I was a narcotics cop. Now I’ve got a boyfriend with a marijuana leaf tattoo? Ain’t nobody would believe this shit.”

“Did you just call me your boyfriend?”

“I’m standing here naked with you, I think that’s the only reason why I would be, don’t you?”

“I guess so. Let’s stand naked under the shower, I’m freezing.”

The hot water hit him like a blast, but not nearly as shocking as the feeling of Fin, naked against him, arms sliding around his waist and feeling him up in a pleasingly possessive way.

“Damn, you’re even skinnier than I thought under those fancy suits.”

“What can I say, I have a metabolism most women would kill for.” Fin, meanwhile, was as solid and caressable as John had imagined, muscular but with a pleasant layer of softness, a little extra weight on his bones that added immensely to the tactile appeal. Already he liked the way they felt, together, as strange a fit as they might have seemed. For most of more mature years, John had rarely strayed from enjoying the delights of beautiful women and the well-proportioned feminine form, but the sturdy masculinity of Fin certainly brought its own fresh excitement and appeal.

That, and this strange, unexpected chemistry between them which he had yet to fully understand as much as he had spent countless hours analyzing it. Being near Fin made him feel more...complete, calmly grounded in a way no one else ever had. Being _this_ near to Fin made him feel other things he didn’t even have words for yet, only that it felt right, and comfortable, and oddly familiar already. Almost like a homecoming, instead of a first time truly in each other’s arms.

Beneath the warm water spray of the shower they indulged in more kisses, wet and sloppy, soft moans and sighs of longing interspersed with occasional giddy laughter. Perhaps neither could quite believe they were doing this—or perhaps the laughter helped make it all seem less strange, more “normal” to the way they always were. John picked up a bottle of shower gel, squeezing some in his hand to then spread on Fin’s shoulders and chest. Fin took the bottle from him to do the same, the feeling of the cool gel hitting his skin, Fin massaging it onto his back, sending a shiver of delight down his spine.

John enjoyed letting his hands wander and explore, watching Fin respond to his touch—eyes closing, lips parting in a murmur of appreciation. John ran slippery fingers down over dark nipples, teasing them to hard peaks. Fin bit his lip to stifle a moan, releasing John to grasp at the walls of the shower stall for support. John let one hand glide lower, over Fin’s stomach, then down to his erect cock.

“Fuck...”

“Eventually,” John promised. “But I’m in no rush.” He had plenty of things he wanted to do to and with Fin before they crossed that bridge. John kissed him again, sucking hard on that deliciously soft and full lower lip as he kept working over Fin’s penis. He did have a craving for more than a simple hand job at the moment, though, and he wanted to give Fin a real taste of what else they could enjoy together. Or rather, get a taste of it himself. So he stepped back slightly to get down to his knees, the position awkward in the narrow shower but he was determined to do this now that the desire had filled his mind.

“What’re you up to?” Fin asked.

“What do you think, genius?” Fin made the most satisfying, surprised sound as John licked at the head of his cock, making his intentions perfectly clear if they weren’t already. He stroked at the thick shaft, an ache of longing passing through his own body as he imagined what it would be like to get fucked by him, to feel this hardness deep inside. But right now he just wanted to taste it, suck him down and listen to the noises he could get Fin to make while getting fucked by his mouth.

“Oh sweet Jesus _fuck_.”

That wasn’t a bad start. John started slow, alternating long licks and quick strokes of his hand with sucking him down, trying to gauge Fin’s responses to each kind of stimulation. Fin seemed to especially enjoy the attentions of John’s tongue, and his mouth running teasingly along the underside of his cock, although it was difficult to tell as Fin was so wired up every motion, swirl or squeeze just seemed to make him moan louder than the last. John held on to Fin’s sturdy thighs for support, occasionally reaching up to caress his stomach, stroke his sides in reassuring affection.

He could tell Fin wasn’t going to last for a marathon blow job session, here, and truthfully neither were his knees on the hard ceramic surface of the shower. So he moved on from being playful and exploratory, trying now to take Fin deeper with each suck. He relaxed his throat as best as he could to take at least one good, solid swallow all the way down, resisting the urge to gag when he could feel the tension ready to explode through Fin’s body.

And suddenly Fin was pushing him back as hot liquid spurted across his lips and chin. John tilted his head back in smug triumph, using a hand to milk out the final rewards for his efforts as Fin grunted through the last of his orgasm.

He tried to get to his feet again but his legs refused to cooperate just yet, and that was all right; Fin dropped down to join him, on his own knees and kissing John’s face, licking at his lips and cheeks, meeting tongue to tongue and letting everything mix together in an exquisite cocktail of sex and satisfaction, filthiness made divine.

“Fin...”

“Yeah, baby...”

John wanted to growl. “This is great and all but if you don’t help me up right now, you might need the jaws of life to get me out of here.”

Fin chuckled against his lips, and soon John had strong arms hoisting him up under the shoulders, helping him to his feet. And then those arms were holding him, half-unbalanced against the tile wall for more kisses that eventually dissolved into contented sighs and lazy nuzzles.

“Guess somebody won’t be complaining about me and my big mouth any longer,” John teased.

“Not if you put it to use like that more often.”

“Gladly. But I fear the hot water’s starting to run out, so let’s adjourn to the bedroom before turning into icicles.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

John emerged some time later from the bathroom, dried off and dressed only in his favorite robe after finishing his pre-bedtime rituals.

“What took you so long?” Fin complained, and John had to pause for a moment before answering to appreciate the sight before him: Fin sprawled casually on his bed, naked and looking perfectly at home.

“It takes a lot of work to remain presentable at this age.”

“Only thing I need right now is you presenting your ass in this bed. Get out of that thing and get over here.”

John put his glasses down on the nightstand and shrugged off his robe, not needing it to stay warm once Fin got hold of him, obviously more than ready to pick up where they’d left off in the bathroom.

“God _damn_ , Fin, when was the last time you got laid?”

“It’s been a while,” he confessed, then frowned at John in obvious concern. “Somethin’ the matter?”

John dropped his head back on the pillows and sighed. “I’m horny, I’m vaguely hungry, yet I’m also completely exhausted,” he admitted, feeling every second of his more advanced years. “And I’m not sure which is taking precedence right now, even with a naked and exceptionally tempting you here in my bed.”

“Well I’m not going anywhere this weekend unless we get called in for some emergency. You got plans?”

“Beyond ravishing you as many times as possible once I’ve gotten some sleep, none whatsoever.”

“Then this ain’t no race to the finish line.” Fin shifted to snuggle in close against John’s side. “This is good.”

“It is. It’s very good.” John yawned and closed his eyes, content to simply be here at home with Fin in what he still couldn’t quite convince himself wasn’t some kind of exhaustion and stress-induced hallucination.

In fact, he had almost drifted off entirely when Fin’s voice in his ear drew him back into consciousness. “’Course now that you had to mention it, food might be kind of nice. You got anything to eat in the fridge?”

“I’m afraid to look.” John raised his head to squint at the alarm clock, which read 11:49. “There is a pizza place in the neighborhood that delivers until one on weekends.”

“They do wings, too?”

“Pretty sure. The menu’s by the phone in the kitchen, if you want to take a look.”

“Yeah, think I will.”

“It’s the one for Vesuvio Pizzeria,” John said as Fin disentangled himself and got up. “Just don’t order the spicy garlic wings if you think you’re going to share a bed with me tonight.”

“You want something?”

Now that Fin had put the idea in his head, John said, “Yeah, the Margherita pizza. Get the extra large so we’ll have leftovers for breakfast.”

* * *

John dozed off before he even heard Fin make the call for delivery, only the loud buzzing of the apartment intercom startling him awake a half-hour or so later. He grabbed a pair of shorts and his robe to meet the delivery man at the door, taking the twenty Fin handed him from his wallet to pay for the order.

“This smells like heaven right now, I’m so damn hungry.” Fin carried the pizza and wings into the bedroom while John grabbed a roll of paper towels and some plates from the kitchen.

“Please try not to get grease or sauce on the sheets, all right? You realize we could eat at the kitchen counter like normal people.”

“Yeah, but this is more comfortable. ’Sides, we’d have to move all your books and shit off there to make room and I don’t feel like wasting the time.” Fin did have a point, John’s own appetite returning quickly now that he’d had a little time to rest up.

The wonderful absurdity of their entire situation struck John as he sat crosslegged on the bed, finishing his second slice of pizza while watching Fin lick Buffalo sauce off his fingers.

“What’s got you smiling now?” Fin asked when he noticed he was under acute observation.

“Just the realization that I’m sitting here naked in bed with you, my dear Fin, eating pizza and wings at one in the morning on a Friday night. You should be afraid because I could get very used to this.”

“You know what I could get used to? Seeing you smile like that more often, instead of always being so grim and serious.”

“You give me reason to smile.” John picked up one of the wings to try, though before he took a bite he paused to say, “Can I ask you something?”

Fin looked at him warily. “That depends.”

“I’m just wondering what on Earth would make _me,_ of all people, the subject of your latent homosexual desires.”

“I’ve been trying to figure that out for months and damned if I know.”

“Come on. I’m letting you risk ruining my Egyptian cotton sheets with tomato-based sauces and chicken fat; a serious answer would be appreciated.”

Fin sighed and looked away for a moment, clearly uneasy about being put on the spot. But John really wanted to know, especially given how Fin seemed remarkably comfortable with everything at the moment for a man who claimed he’d never been sexually intimate with another guy before.

“Don’t laugh if this comes out sounding stupid or something.”

“I won’t laugh.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Really. We’re sitting here like _this_ and you’re telling me _now_ you don’t trust me?”

“I mean not to make a joke when you want me to tell you something important.”

“I promise. No wisecracks. You can have your wicked way with me if I misbehave.”

“As if that’s not just what you want? Man.” Fin shook his head in clear exasperation, but then sighed in defeat under John’s best puppy dog pleading look. “All right, all right. But it’s complicated, you know? Not sure I can explain it."

"Try."

"Like, for one thing, you’re a white dude who isn’t like most other white dudes I’ve known, let alone worked with on the force. Or even when I was in the army. I’ve never felt you treat me or look at me different because I’m black. You’re just the same asshole to me that you are to everyone.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Fin smiled. “But I could also see, real early on when we started working together, that you have this...you’ve got a deep soul to you, John. You don’t like show it to other people very much, but when you do, it’s...something beautiful to see." Fin paused for a moment, and now it was John’s turn to feel uncomfortable under the weight of Fin’s words. “We weren’t even working together that long when I first saw that side of you. The McKenna case. You remember?”

“Ah yes. One of those I only wish I could forget.”

Fin nodded. “I saw the way you were around the kids we had to talk to, Emily’s friend at school. How much you cared about that poor girl and what it took out of you to get her mother to confess to abusing her. ’Til then, I thought you were just this cat too cool for everyone and everything, but you have this whole other side come out when you’re around little kids. I respected that. Later on, I guess I started noticing...other things.”

John raised his eyebrows and Fin grinned, pointing at him with a celery stick. “Like that...the way you practically can carry on a conversation using your eyebrows alone.”

“My eyebrows make you horny.”

“If you start laughing this conversation is over.”

“Sorry! Go on. I’m enjoying the grand tour de Munch from your perspective.”

“See, right now you’re being your typical smart ass self. But when you’re actually being _nice_ to someone, your voice even changes. Like when we were talking last night. That was that deep side of you coming out.”

“Instead of the asshole side.”

“Exactly. Though I guess I don’t mind the asshole that much since that’s the way you are most of the time.” Fin paused and looked down, poking at his food, and John was a good boy and stayed quiet. “Beside all of that, I don’t know...I like how you’ve got your own style that’s kind of weird, kind of old school and shit but you own it like a motherfucker. I can respect that. I even tried to work it like you did, for a while, but fancy dress shirts and ties aren’t really my thing, you know?”

 _And more’s the pity when you look so damn fine in a three-piece suit,_ John thought wistfully, but he continued to keep his mouth shut.

“Anyway, all of a sudden, all of that...and maybe also workin’ SVU where you gotta open yourself up to understand that sex and love, they’re not as simple as most people want to pretend they are...it’s like...these feelings I’d forgotten about even _having_ when I was a younger, ’cause you’re not supposed to feel that way about another guy... They all started coming back to me. Because of you. Is that strange?”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve tipped the scales so far into the strange zone that we’re on our way to completely undiscovered country. And I don’t mean the _Star Trek_ film.”

“The fuck are you even talking about?”

“I don’t know, Fin, it’s one in the morning and I’m eating chicken wings and pizza in bed with my naked partner. Don’t ask me to be coherent.”

“All right, fine. But it’s your turn.”

“My turn for what?”

Fin leaned over the side of the bed to drop a chicken bone in the take out bag, which had been re-purposed for trash collection. “What makes four times-married John Munch suddenly decide to play for the other team.”

“I’ve had my dalliances in the past, I told you. Admittedly, they were mostly in the sixties when I was tripping so hard on acid that for all I know now I was just blowing bong pipes and not hot guys with long hair and lots of pot. But also...you’re refreshingly _real_ to me, Fin. You don’t play head games or try to be somebody you’re not. I think I’ve determined that you’re the reality check I regularly need when I get a little too far into my own head. You’re also pretty.”

Fin looked as though he’d been wounded by John’s last few words. “I am _not_ pretty.”

“Fuck that. You’re pretty.”

“I think you’re still smoking some of your crazy weed to be saying that.”

“Okay, fine. You’re not pretty.” John sucked the grease off his fingers, wiped them off on a clean paper towel, and then crawled across the bed until he was right in Fin’s face. “You’re beautiful. You’re amazing. You are nothing I ever thought I wanted and everything I actually need in my life. Are you satisfied?”

“No I’m not. Because you still haven’t let me suck you off.”

“Clear this crap off the bed and we can make that happen, right now.”

John didn’t think he’d ever seen Fin move faster than he did over the next few seconds. Not while pursuing a perp, not when he’d attacked Gannon in the box, not when the battle cry of “free doughnuts” rang out at the 16th. Plates, wings, and pizza box were all quickly disposed of and the next thing John knew he was pinned down on the bed, Fin hovering over him with an entirely different kind of hunger than one that could be satisfied by take-out food. He lowered his head for a kiss, one that blew John’s mind even more than previously, now that he had begun to understand the extent of Fin’s desires for him.

Of course, there was something else Fin had promised to blow and he wasn’t exactly rushing to _that_ task.

“You know, my dick’s down there.”

“I’ll get to it in a minute.” Fin shifted slightly down John’s body, to tongue and nip at one of his nipples.

“Okay, take your time,” John sighed, perfectly content to let Fin keep doing _that_ for however long he wanted. And he did, for several torturous minutes, the tickling roughness of his facial hair making for such a delightful contrast to the warm, wet smoothness of his tongue and lips. John liked the feeling of being at Fin’s mercy, trapped beneath his weight, nearly helpless...for some reason Fin made him willing and eager to be far more submissive than he normally ever was in bed.

 _Trust_ , he realized, through the haze of pleasure and lust. _I trust him._ Maybe more than he’d ever felt trust in another person in his entire life.

Eventually Fin moved lower, hands and mouth caressing his abdomen, his stomach, close yet purposefully avoiding his cock—which only made him harder in anticipation. Fin finally breathed against him, the hot air a tease, a glorious and terrible tease of want and desperation. John reached down to touch Fin’s shoulder and as much as he was desperate for more, he offered, “If you’re not ready to do this...”

“Shut up, John.”

And John shut up as Fin nuzzled him, then pressed his lips at last against John’s straining, aching cock. John groaned, already so hard before Fin could do much more to him, just from the anticipation, the sight of Fin, down there, between his legs. Wanting to do this to him. _For_ him.

A slow lick, along the underside of his erection, toward the tip. Fin glanced up toward him and John tried to smile, certain he must have looked like a deranged lunatic instead of a very happy lover. A second long lick, then another, ending this time with Fin’s lips around the head of his cock, tongue swirling it gently, then sucking upon it.

John flopped back on the pillow. He closed his eyes. Had to. If he kept watching he was going to lose it before having any chance to truly enjoy himself. So he let the warmth of Fin’s mouth, his thick tongue, those soft lips become his world. Fin’s hands, he could feel them as well, one snug around the base of his cock, squeezing and moving in matching rhythm with the sucking motion of his lips. The other pressed against his side, caressing, holding on, that possessiveness in his touch once again turning John on like crazy.

No matter how he tried he couldn’t hold back for very long. Fin short-circuited his wiring, bypassed all of his practiced discipline, not through clever technique but simply by being _Fin_. His touch, his kisses, the way he was in bed, it was everything that had made John infatuated with him in the first place.

And infatuation had turned into love, he’d be a fool to deny it now.

Fin responded to his increasingly urgent moans and encouragements by quickening his strokes and sucks, alternating between using his mouth and his hand to keep up the rhythm. Suddenly John felt hot breath against his balls, Fin’s mouth covering one as his hand pumped his spit-slick erection and that was it. That was all she wrote. He came hard, bucking up into Fin’s grasp with a string of curses which would have surely damned him to hell right then and there if he ever believed in such things.

Fin slid his way back up into John’s arms for a long and lazy kiss, his hand still caressing John’s cock as the last shudders of his orgasm burned out. “I guess that all right for you, baby?”

“You mean you didn’t hear the fireworks and trumpets and choir of angels singing hallelujah? That was all in my head?”

“I heard you screaming filthy shit about some goddamned motherfucker and other things I ain’t repeating right now. But I’m gonna need more practice to get as good as you.”

“By all means. _Fin_...” John said his name as a sigh, emotion welling up inside him so quick he thought he would choke on it.

“What?”

“Nothing. Don’t mind me.” _Only that I’m doing it again, like I always do._ He always fell too hard, too fast, and he had a lifetime of heartbreak to prove it. He was scared of ruining things once again by saying more than he should yet, of wanting too much. “Just wallowing in post-coital _tristesse_.”

“Whatever.” Fin yawned and relaxed against him, head against his shoulder, hand still resting, sticky and cooling, on John’s stomach. “As long as that's not something bad.”

“No. It’s just me.” Rest beckoned for John now as clearly as it did for Fin, and sleep would serve him better than getting too deep into his emotional anxieties and insecurities. He put a hand over Fin’s, turned to place a soft kiss on his forehead, and stayed awake only long enough to hear Fin’s breathing settle into a soothing pattern of deep sleep.

 


	6. Chapter 6

The weekend passed far too quickly, and with very little of it spent outside the happy confines of John’s bedroom. Saturday and Sunday as distinct days were nothing more than a blur of morning light fading into afternoon shadows, then through evening dusk into night as they did their best to forget about the world outside. Beyond these walls lived the pain and tragedy they had to deal with on the job every _other_ day; in here they had found a safe haven to temporarily escape the madness.

They ordered in more food for delivery instead of venturing forth from this sanctuary, although John did make one brief excursion to the corner deli for fresh Sunday morning bagels, and a six-pack for the game Fin didn’t want to miss that afternoon. Sports and a few movies played half-watched on the bedroom television, and they slept for hours off and on before one or the other woke, craving more than lazy cuddles and caresses, or the occasional rounds of deep conversation over matters never before revealed nor shared.

The entire situation felt so oddly comfortable as to be downright surreal, John realized late Sunday afternoon. The early game had ended and Fin napped across John’s stomach while he caught up on some of his reading. He felt as though they’d somehow gone from bantering coworkers to old married couple in under seventy-two hours. Then again, he’d never made it to “old married couple” status with any of his four wives, so what did he know, anyway? He only knew that this felt decidedly different from all those past failed relationships, and it was a very good kind of different at that.

Sunday dinner was a buffet of leftovers from their delivery meals, to clear out the fridge before another week began and who knew when John might see his own bed or apartment again. He took a long shower—solo—after the meal, in case the phone rang as it often did on Mondays demanding their presence at some ungodly hour before the sun even cleared the horizon.

“Back to reality in the morning,” John groaned, burying his head against the back of Fin’s neck after he’d climbed back into bed. He’d rather spend the whole week ahead like this, spooned against Fin’s body and ignoring that anything and anyone else existed outside this apartment. Maybe pretend that it had all been destroyed in some bizarre apocalyptic event which had left only the take-out restaurants and the corner deli still standing.

He could live with such a fate.

“Sucks,” Fin agreed. “And I need to get home some time before then to get clean clothes, work on my hair... But I don’t feel like moving right now.”

“Don’t want you to. Though...I could come with you, if you need to head out,” John suggested. Maybe he was being clingy but he didn’t fancy a night’s sleep alone if Fin wanted to go back to his own place for the night. “Pack some things for myself for tomorrow, unless you’re sick of my bony ass by now.”

“Why don’t you pack for a few days,” Fin suggested. “Just, you know...things you can keep over at my place. Make this easier on us both of us.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, why not.”

With anyone else it would have been too fast, too sudden. Then again they had, in a way, already been together for close to two years, if only as partners and not lovers. “All right. Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

They lay together in silence for a while, John casually caressing Fin’s chest with one hand, tracing patterns without meaning over his skin. “What’s got you thinkin’,” Fin asked with a sigh.

“Hmm?”

“You get quiet, I know you’re either thinking about something serious or you’re asleep. And I can tell you’re not sleeping.”

“This could get weird at work.”

“Only if we’re not careful about keeping things separate.”

“When you left narcotics, you didn’t want to get attached to another partner—at least that’s what you told me. I’d call this pretty damned attached, wouldn’t you?”

“I wasn’t plannin’ on this. On _you._ I say we play it by ear for now. And ain’t no one got to know but us unless you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

“My mouth won’t say a thing. The way you like to leave marks with _your_ mouth might be another matter entirely unless I invent a new girlfriend to brag about.”

“She won’t be as pretty as me.”

“Hell, no.” John kissed the back of Fin’s neck, right behind his ear which he’d discovered was a particularly nice place to attack if he wanted to make Fin squirm. Which he started doing, most pleasingly, his backside grinding against John’s quickly stirring erection. “God, I want to fuck your ass,” John growled.

“I know you do. I want it too.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I do.” Fin rolled over to look at John. “’Cause I love you and I know you love me, right?”

John stared back, startled speechless for a moment. He hadn’t been expecting... _that_. Not so easily, not so matter-of-factly, but he had no reason to doubt the sincerity of Fin’s words. “I do love you, Fin.”

“Good, so we got that out of the way. Now we don’t have to be all mushy and weird about it in the future. So yeah, I want to do it but...maybe not yet. I’m not...”

“There’s no rush. Going from zero to anal in one weekend is a bit much to ask.”

Fin rolled his eyes. “You’ve got a hell of a way to have to put things, you know?”

“Well we are talking about putting things where...” but Fin cut him off with a kiss, rolling on top of John and pinning his hands overhead in happy surrender. The heat between them flared once more, thoughts of heading anywhere else for the night now on hold. Fin pressed down against him, moving slowly, torturously, thighs gripping John’s to keep him trapped in place. Their cocks rubbed together with every deliberate movement, each brush of swelling flesh to flesh triggering a new and deeper need within. John groaned against Fin’s mouth and arched up against him, so close to what he needed but not quite, almost there, wickedly on edge from the pleasure both granted and denied.

Fin eventually sat up and spit into the palm of one hand, using it then to take grip of both of their cocks together. He rubbed and squeezed slowly, eyes on John, his hungry gaze almost more of a turn on than his hand’s clever work. “You gonna fuck me with this hard cock, baby?”

“Soon as you fucking let me.”

“Maybe you’re gonna have to give me a ride on that bony ass of yours first.” Fin’s stroking movements picked up speed, then slowed again, being a complete and utterly frustrating tease. “I bet I could get you begging for it. I want to hear you beg for my cock in you.”

“You’re going to be begging for mercy if you don’t let me come soon, bastard.” In fact Fin looked far, far too smug and satisfied with himself at that moment for John’s tastes. And he might lack Fin’s physical heft and strength but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a few tricky moves of his own. He reached up to pull Fin down for another kiss, but then used his free arm and his legs to twist and roll them over.

“Playing dirty, distracting me like that.”

“Fin, you are nothing but one giant distraction.” John placed kisses along Fin’s jawline, working his way toward one earlobe to give it a small bite. “One massive, hard distraction that I can’t get enough of.” His hand slipped between them to take Fin’s erection, rubbing it in lazy strokes to match the motion of his own hips. And soon they both stopped teasing and talking entirely as words dissolved into needful moans and sighs.

Entwined and seeking one rhythm, one perfect fluid motion where friction brought gratification, John suddenly felt more connected to Fin than he could ever remember feeling with another. _“I love you,”_ he said, his voice a harsh whisper against Fin’s ear. Mushy or not, John knew he would say those words, repeatedly, until and long after Fin was sick to death of hearing them. Love like this needed to be acknowledged, needed to be shared. Their love and its physical expression were the ultimate high he’d chased and failed to ever grasp before in any psychedelic haze, any orgiastic exploits he’d sought and known in his lifetime.

_“John.”_

Fin gasped his name, and it was like hearing it for the first time, like it finally had meaning. It meant love, the way Fin said it, like a prayer or a mantra. And John realized this was his nirvana, even if reached in just the blink of an eye, gasping, shuddering, the next moment lost and leaving him crashing down into the earthly reality of sticky bodies, spunk and sweat.

In time he became aware, dimly, of Fin’s hand caressing his back, moving in slow circles and dangerously close to soothing him right to sleep like this. “Damn,” John sighed, not ready to move a limb, feeling as wrung-out as a wet dishrag.

“Somebody enjoyed that.”

“Either I just experienced one hell of an acid flashback or that orgasm blew out my entire nervous system,” John quipped. “Think I can take the week off to recover from this weekend?”

“Yeah, sure. Try running that by the captain in the morning. ‘Can’t come in, too exhausted from a weekend-long booty call’.” Fin stretched like a lazy cat beneath him and yawned. “Better set the alarm for extra early...I don’t see us getting out of bed right now to haul ass over to my place.”

“Really early,” John agreed. “Figure two, maybe three hours early to be safe if you want to get to Brooklyn, clean up and make it to the sixteenth on time.”

“We can do that. Ain’t done nothing but fuck, sleep and eat all weekend.”

“All of which are all perfectly justifiable life goals.”

John finally managed call forth the energy to reach for the alarm clock and set it for four a.m. That would give him enough time to shower—again, he definitely needed it now—throw a few things in an overnight bag for the morning, and head over with Fin to his place drop them off.

To keep there for...just in case. For wherever this was leading them next, and they’d figure that out in time.

John grabbed a fistful of tissues to clean up as best as he could without getting up, handing a few to Fin who muttered his thanks in response. Ready for another few hours of sleep, Fin settled in close to John with an arm draped across his waist, head nestled against his shoulder and sharing his pillow. He was dead asleep almost immediately, an enviable wonder in his ability to nod off as soon as he’d made himself comfortable.

John lay awake for a while longer, wanting to indulge in his lingering contentment free of the melancholy which had seized him the other night. He wanted to savor the taste of Fin’s sweat and saliva on his tongue, the scent of him—hell, the raunchy scent of this entire _room_ after a weekend of marathon sexual exploits. He wanted to memorize the texture of Fin’s hair, his warm skin, the deep purr of his voice when he craved sex. All of these things deserved priority in John’s mind, there to reflect upon when life and work threatened to overwhelm him.

He hadn’t allowed himself to think back on their last case, on Taye, on any of those other children all weekend, and he didn’t feel guilty in the slightest for it. That’s what he’d tried to get Fin to understand days ago: that to survive in this unit, you had to learn to let go of these things once you were off the clock. Don’t take work home with you; don’t let it eat away at your ability to feel joy and remember the good things in life.

Not that he always managed to stick to that himself, he knew. But he had to try. It was all any of them could do.

The memory of a conversation came back to him, flickering through his brain as he started to give in to the siren call of sleep beside his lover. Not so much a conversation, really; more a dissection of his own psyche by one of those shrinks he always hated...especially when they were right.

_“You’ve given up on relationships, but you still believe in true love. And the pain of never having found it is unbearable.”_

He had. He did. And it had been, at times. But that had all been before Fin.

The old hippie in John still wanted to believe that love was all you needed in life. That this was where he was finally meant to be, that perhaps it had all simply been leading up to this moment, this time, this one person sleeping tonight in his arms.

At last.

 


	7. Chapter 7

On their way in to work the next morning, John got out of Fin’s car a few blocks before the precinct parking lot to pick up a big box of doughnuts for the squad. He was in a good mood, after all, between last week’s successful bust and the weekend’s...well... _everything._ So how better to celebrate then by sharing an overload of refined sugar and carbohydrates with his best friends and colleagues?

He ended up in the elevator several minutes later with Olivia rushing in not far behind, calling him to hold the car for her.

“Thanks, John. Hey, are those for everyone?” she asked, eyeing the large box in his arms.

“Of course. I’m feeling that kind of generous today.”

“Good, then I’ll take first pick before the boys get all the best ones.” John popped the lid as the elevator stopped on the second floor to let some other passengers off. Olivia chose a strawberry-iced doughnut with sprinkles and after a bite said, “By the way, nice scarf.”

“Sore throat,” John replied with his well-planned answer. “Think I caught a chill last week, you know, the weather lately.” He could have picked out one of his own scarves to wear today, to cover the evidence of Fin’s over-enthusiasm. But truthfully he had become rather fond of this one, what with the traces of Fin’s cologne and aftershave that clung to it, a way to keep him close at all times.

“That’s funny. Here I thought you’d caught a Fin.”

John nearly dropped the box at that remark, stumbling over his own feet upon getting out of the elevator when they reached their floor. “What was that?”

Olivia leaned in closely as she walked beside him. “I remember teasing Fin about that scarf, before he told me it was a Christmas gift from his mother.” She smiled slyly at him before she took another bite of her doughnut.

“Damn. Hopefully you’re the only one with such a keen memory, ’Liv.”

“Mum’s the word. But I take _your_ weekend went well.”

“Exceptionally. I’ll spare you the details.”

“Please and thank you.”

“Who bought the doughnuts?” Elliot shouted out, always with an eager eye for any free food in the vicinity.

“Who do you see carrying this box?” John replied.

“Yeah, but who never chips in for food unless he’s cornered?”

“I resent that remark, even if I resemble it.”

“What’s with the scarf?”

“Munch has a sore throat,” Olivia answered for John, already eyeing up a second selection from the doughnut box to take back to her desk.

“Is it something contagious?” Elliot asked, his hand hovering over the doughnuts as if they suddenly represented a biohazard.

“I doubt it,” Fin said, coming up now to join the others and claim a Boston creme for himself. “Bet he’s just being his usual hypochondriac self.”

“This is the thanks I get from everyone for doing something nice? What’s going on here, is it ‘Pick on Munch Monday’?”

“We tease because we love ya, John.” Elliot grabbed a toasted coconut and headed for his desk.

“Speak for yourself,” Fin said, scowling after Stabler but then gracing John with a small, private smile as he sucked custard off his index finger.

John swallowed, hard. _This is going to be a bit more of a challenge than I thought._

Captain Cragen stepped out of his office, his loud voice cutting through the squadroom chatter. “Morning everyone. I know we’ve still got work to do on the Gannon case, but who’s catching the first new call of the week?”

“’Liv and I are still working the Hudson rape from last weekend,” Elliot said. “Need to talk to that student advisor this morning who might have been doing a bit more than ‘mentoring’ freshman regarding their planned majors.”

“So I guess that leaves us,” John answered, glancing sideways at his partner and then at Cragen. “Just tell me I’m not going to need the brain bleach after this one.”

“Dead prostitute in Riverside Park.” Don handed him a file.

“Ah. Same old, same old.”

“Yeah, except someone mutilated and disemboweled the body in a very...artistic manner. Could be related to a similar murder from last year that was never closed. You might want to finish those doughnuts before you meet Warner at the scene. I have a feeling you’ll be skipping lunch.”

“Thanks for the warning.” John grabbed two chocolate glazed and said to Fin, “Shall we?”

“After you. But I’m driving.”

“So I’ve got to ride shotgun? Great. Good thing I stocked up on the dramamine last week...”

* * *

Olivia went over to the coffee station to fill her first mug of the day.

“I’ll never understand how those two haven’t managed to kill each other yet,” Elliot said, nodding after the departing, bickering detectives.

“Maybe some things aren’t meant to be understood, El. Maybe they’re just...” she shrugged and smiled, “simply meant to be.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it to the end of this story, _thank you!_ I hope it made for an enjoyable read, as I had a lot of fun writing this one. 
> 
> I wasn't sure when I started it, but I now have some ideas to continue the story line if there's interest (actually picking up immediately from the end here, more of an actual case fic and getting into Fin's POV.) So comments most welcome, if you like to see more.


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